On Frost-Bound Shores
by Blondegenius911
Summary: To deal with the Leviathans, Crowley suggests the aid of two very special sisters, Wren and Elsa, belonging to an ancient race called Valkyries. Dean and Sam are left uneasy, but soon they are left falling for two immortal Viking women, who come from a culture where passion and loyalty reign.
1. Darkness Will Rise from the Deep

**Alright, so this is going to be interesting. As a strong Destiel shipper myself, i still found myself tossing and turning, unable to get two twin immortal young women out of my mind. They seemed perfect for Sam and Dean, and i just had to write them down. I will post this as well as the first chapter to get you guys interested, but past that, i need at least one thoughtful review to continue :) sorry, but i need to know people are interested to keep this up! The pairings are Elsa x Dean, Wren x Sam. Also, this is set at the beginning of season 7.**

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_**Long Ago:**_

As the twins stood together at the helm of the ship, one in white and one in red, they felt the bitter winds of Norway bite against their pale skin with teeth as sharp as razors.

The woman in red rested a bare hand on the head of the carved dragon at the front of the ship, its massive iron head bowed down to watch the roiling of black, icy waters. The wood of the ship creaked and groaned in seemingly constant agony, and the sailors barked orders in a language which would be dead and forgotten in a few centuries.

Her sister smoothed her cloak over her gown, the white fur matching the hue of her hair perfectly, which danced in the wind like gentle snow flurries.

"Wren."

The woman slid her hand off the dragon head and eyed her sister curiously, her hair like a flaming torch for those lost to sea. "Ja?"

Silence.

"Speak, Elsa," said Wren, laying her head on top of the dragon's. She could see sailors and vikings stumbling off their ships, frost-bitten and harsh. Their beards were long and thick, and in their Scandinavian-esque language, they began to tell recounts of large beasts rising from the deep, seemingly released by Loki himself. Ones that made waves bigger than Galdhøpiggen and were thrice as large themselves; ones that could have eaten Grendel in one resounding bite.

Even Wren herself felt unnerved by them.

Elsa sighed. "Are you prepared for our journey?"

Wren leaned against her older sister of nary three minutes, and together, they looked out into the unknown. This early in the morning, chilled fog as thick as the mens' beards ghosted over the waters, shielding their eyes from the dangers they would encounter.

"I am as ready as Beowulf when he fought the dragon," teased Wren, and Elsa's light laughter was muffled in the heavy fog around them.

"If we return, the men shall be fighting each other to the death for our hands in marriage. Being a warrior is one thing, but being the husband of one? An unequaled honour!" Elsa puffed, and her breath came out like frozen fire in the cold. "What warrior would _not_ want a woman who hadst slain monsters and tamed Níðhöggr? Not one I would wish to claim as _my_ mate!"

At this point, the two girls were laughing heartily, their cheeks and the tips of their noses warming to a merry red. It was just a mask, however, for their worry over their fates.

They were quiet for a few minutes, then Elsa said softly, "Wōden is looking over us, søster, and we will be known by the strength of our people."

When Wren looked like she was about to speak, Elsa held up a hand. "We will be known by the strength of our people, but we will be burned in the scrolls of monks forever by _our_ valiance. We are to battle these monsters now, and we are to win. 'Tis as simple as that."

Wren smiled crookedly, and as the longship was pushed out into the cold unknown, they both gripped the head of the iron dragon.

There was ice in Elsa's smile.

And there was fire in her sister's eyes.

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**Alright, how was the prologue? This is set during the beginning of the 11th century, a few decades before the end of the Viking Era, but the rest will be present, this is to get a feel of the sisters' past and their struggles. There were a few words throughout I borrowed from the languages in Scandinavia of that time period, such as Norwegian, Icelandic, and Old English. I will also allude heavily to Norse mythology, so at the end of every chapter, I will really try to make a key or something to clarify anything. If you still have questions, ask! Please review! Thanks :)**

**"Ja" = yes**

**Loki= norse god of mayhem and mischief (sorry, not related to Avengers, sweets!)**

**Galdhøpiggen = one of the biggest mountains in Norway**

**Grendel = the monster slayed by Beowulf in the epic ****Beowulf**

**Beowulf = the norse hero in the epic ****Beowulf****, who slays Grendel and his mother, as well as the dragon fifty years later, at the cost of his own life.**

**Níðhöggr = the dragon who constantly gnaws at the root of the World Tree, according to norse mythology.**

**Søster = norwegian for sister**

**Wōden = Old English version of Odin, the Allfather of the gods and the ruler of Asgard (home of the gods)**


	2. A Brave and Radiant Beginning

**Alright, so here is the next instalment, I do hope you enjoy! Also, don't forget to review!**

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_Present Day:_

Dean sat with his back pressed against the headboard of their dingy motel room, decorated with bowling balls and stained with yellow nicotine smoke. He pushed a hand through his short hair, and took a gulp of rotgut whiskey. It burned deeply and felt as though it was eating a hole through his stomach, but he took pleasure in the pain. He really didn't enjoy much of anything anymore except pain, especially since Cas was gone and the Leviathans were loose.

He had so much fucking guilt weighing on his shoulders, and after so long, it was finally taking a toll on him. He was getting thinner from his constant diet of Jack Daniels and Grey Goose, and even though he couldn't exactly see it, he suspected his liver wasn't looking too hot either. His eyes were bloodshot, and he didn't really smile much anymore.

The only things keeping him alive were Sam, Bobby, and pie.

"Sammy?" He asked, looking over from the TV to watch his brother sitting at the creaky table, researching fervently. He noticed how tightly Sam was holding onto his beer, and if he had to guess, Dean would say it was because Lucifer was whispering in his ear. Literally.

"Yeah?" Sam replied, barely looking in Dean's direction.

"Isn't Bobby supposed to be here at-"

There was a knock at the door. Sam glanced over at Dean with a faint smirk, and got up quickly. "He's like a fairy godmother, you know that? Always popping up when you need him."

As soon as he undid all the locks and opened the door, Bobby walked in.

Slowly.

Immediately, Dean jumped off the bed, drawing out the knife, his face a mask of anger. For there, right behind Bobby, was their dear friend Crowley.

"Hello, boys. How're they hanging, then? The weather?" Crowley purred, keeping a tight hold on Bobby's coat collar. "I hated to resort to his petty sort of thing, but I have very important information on how to find solace from the Leviathans while you scrounge around and figure out how to kill the bloody things. Okay?"

The room was taken up, and smothered with, silence. Crowley, standing cool and poised in his black suit with Bobby by the scruff; Bobby, looking like steam would come out of his ears at any moment; Sam, not exactly sure whether or not they were going to try to torch the demon in the room, and Dean, who finally sat heavily on the bed and waved to Crowley with his knife.

"Let Bobby go, then get out of here now, asshole."

Crowley chuckled and pushed Bobby away, shoving him into the wall next to Sam. Bobby immediately straightened and brushed off his shirt, cursing at Crowley in ways that would make an angel faint.

"Shut up, would you, Bobby dear? And I am not going to leave until I've said my piece." He held up a hand to Dean's enraged protest. "Don't get your panties in a twist. What can you do? Sic your pet moose on me? Anyways, I have information to some people who I know will be able to help, at least a little, concerning our new outbreak."

"Oh yeah, who? Another hell bitch? Thanks, we've tried Demon Aide. They charge too much," spat out Dean.

Crowley mock shuttered. "So much bitterness. It's freezing the cockles of my black heart, really." He rolled his eyes. "Just take my advice. I now know for a fact that the demon race is in jeopardy with those things out of their crate, and I want them back in. I don't want anything from you for this information except your guarantee that you will all try, _and succeed,_ in getting them back in. Agree?"

Sam crossed his arms and glared at the little king of Hell. "And these 'secret weapons' are...? And why didn't you contact them when, I don't know, _the apocalypse was happening?"_

"Terribly underground, these two. Care for the brief backstory, then, since you don't wish to put blind faith in my word? I am hurt, really."

"Yeah, that you be nice," drawled Bobby with contempt, lowering himself in the chair Sam had been sitting in a few minutes before.

Crowley started to lean against the wall, but thought better of it when he caught sight of the smoke stains. "They were born in the 10th century. Twins, Elsa and Wren Ivengard. They're Alphas of a race called-"

Dean smashed his hand on the nightstand, roaring, "FUCK YOU. Alphas?! You _dare_ suggest we work with _Alphas_?! Of what? The werewolves? The fucking faeries?"

Crowley rubbed his temples. "Calm down, hothead. Let me finish, hmm?" He paused, then cleared his throat despite Dean's glare. "They are the Alphas of the Valkyries."

"What the hell is a Valkyrie?" This came from Bobby.

Crowley pulled out a leather-bound book from inside his jacket, and dropped it with a resounding thud on the table. Dean got up, and crossed over to stand over it like the others, and Bobby pulled it cautiously over to where he was sitting. It was ancient, bound in a heavy black leather and carved with Scandinavian runes and Norse symbols.

"Its an illuminated text from a Norwegian monastery. Exchanged a monk 'eternal salvation' in exchange for it." He chuckled to himself, before straightening and tapping the cover. "Page 99, if you would."

Bobby carefully flipped to the page, and together, they gazed upon a painting surrounded with ancient Scandinavian words. The picture depicted a swarm of female warriors riding snarling wolves, clad in heavy chain mail and breastplates, wielding swords and maces twice their size, descending on a war-torn battlefield from the heavens. Crowley slowly began to translate and read from the surrounding text.

". . . The Valkryies, those great Shield Maidens which serve under Wōden. They come from Asgard onto the bloodied grounds, lending aid to those who have honourable intention. . . And, of most importance, there is Wren the Radiant and Elsa the Brave; the first of the magnificent Valkyries. They went when the sea summoned them, to destroy the great wolf Fenrir and stop the coming of Ragnarök in the place of Wōden; even though they had never seen battle, and were soft and frail. They managed to lock him back under the sea, but sacrificed their own lives to do so. Wōden was so struck blind with their courage, that he stopped the goddess of death, Hel, from taking their souls. Instead, he infused their souls with the preserved essence of their valiance, and breathed life back into their bodies. Immortal, they forever possessed the emotions they felt in their moment of death: courage, bravery, loyalty, vanity, and stubborn pride. In doing so, he had created his own female army."

Crowley stopped reading, and glanced up at the faces of the hunters.

Dean felt...humbled. These girls had went off to stop the coming of the apocalypse, like he and Sam had after them, but they had did so with no knowledge. They had went to their deaths with blind faith, with the courage of the innocent and the selfless.

He looked up at Sam, and saw easily on his face that same silent respect.

"Fine," Dean growled. "How do we contact them?"

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**Okay, there it is! I do so hope it has piqued your interest. **

**"Page 99" = the number nine is very important to many pagan mythologies, including norse. Just a little allusion for fun XD**

**Ragnarök = the equivalent to the apocalypse in the Christian tradition, in a series of natural disasters and the deaths of many gods, and in which Fenrir was to be freed from his cage and eat Wōden alive. Also known as the Last Great Battle, and was why Valhalla was created; that is, to keep the ghosts of warriors primed for battle for when Ragnarök began.**

**Fenrir = the monstrous wolf that was destined to eat and kill Wōden during the events of Ragnarök. Also the son of Loki.**

**Hel = the goddess of Hel, the equivalent of Hades in the Greek mythology. **


	3. Snow Mazes of Norway

_Three days later, in Tønsberg, Norway:_

_Dean's POV:_

I'd only been out of America once, and that was in Scotland to get Crowley's rotten old bones. This, however, was something I hadn't ever expected to experience.

That is, it's fucking cold in Norway. _Fucking cold._

Bobby, Sam, and I trudged against the stinging sleet as we fought our way up a street way too steep to be legal. What was a street this steep even doing in Norway, anyways? Wasn't it a bit too icy all the fucking time to have something like this?

We had arrived in Tønsberg about ten hours ago, and Crowley had disappeared soon after. He had said he was going to meet up with us at the base of the mountain, and I seemed to be the only sane one here; I didn't trust the little asshat one bit.

This was supposedly the oldest town in Norway, established in the 7th century. The streets were lined with old stone houses, and beyond the thick, watery snow falling in sheets, a grey mountain rose above the little town like a giant Norwegian monster. The sky was equally gloomy, and the only spots of colour I could see were the faded paint of a few window shutters, shut tight and locked against the elements. Around us, a few people trotted up and down the hill like it was any normal Sunday, and I admit, I felt a little embarrassed to be struggling in weather they considered normal. They were certainly hearty people, and the shortest woman I had seen walk by was my height. There was a mix of modern and traditional, with some women walking around in puff coats and ponytails, and others in wool headscarves and fur-lined dresses.

We finally arrived at the base of the mountain, to a small, snow-covered path leading up into the heavy pine forests. We had to crane our heads back and bend down to see under the arch of the overhanging flora, which was weighed down by the heavy ice. We couldn't see very far, though, before the trail turned sharply and disappeared into the mystery of the mountain.

"Ah, there you eager beavers are," said Crowley from behind us, and we all turned quickly to keep him from being at our backs.

I took out a hunting knife, and gestured up at the perilous path. "You expect us to climb that?"

Crowley smiled devilishly. "No, no, no. I expect you and Moose to climb it. Bobby and I will stay behind, us two old men. Besides, they don't like me much."

"I'm beginning to like them already," I growled, scrubbing a hand over my face to get some feeling back into it. I didn't even feel the burn of the sleet anymore, and it that wasn't a bad sign, I don't know what is. I could handle monsters and ghouls, but weather? I knew better than to fuck with the elements. It was unpredictable, and you couldn't defeat it.

Crowley gestured up the path. "You'll come to a fork about halfway up. Sam, I need to go left. Dean, right."

"Why do we need to be separated?" asked Sam, at the same time I snapped, "Fuck that."

"Now, boys. Settle down. Please, I vow on my power as a Crossroads Demon that I'm only telling you these specifics for your own good. Now, can we not freeze our asses off all day while you two flutter about, scared to be separated at the hip?"

Silence.

Finally, Sam sighed. "He's right, Dean. Let's get this over with. Bobby, we'll be back." He started up the path, almost toppling over when he already hit an ice patch. His freakishly big body and the slippery ice isn't going to be a good match; I can feel it.

Bobby pretended to flutter a hand dramatically. "I'll wait for you, dear. Don't fall in love with another woman while you're gone."

He needed to spend less time watching daylight television.

* * *

We stood at a fork in the road. Literally.

Sam rubbed his hands together and blew on them, then glanced at me. "So, you'll go right?"

I looked right, and made a noise of uncertainty. "I don't like doing what Crowley says, Sammy. You know that. I hate demons. Why don't we trade?"

Sam took a step onto the left path, which looked a lot more tame and easy to climb. "Look, I've had enough of a time getting up that other path. I can't take much more rocky terrain, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Godzilla. Have fun," I mumbled, waving him off. I added gruffly, "Be careful, okay? Kill the bitch if she gets handsy."

Sam's booming laughter caused a few icepops to fall off the tree branches. "Yeah, you too."

With that, he took off, and I started up the precarious trail to the right. As I walked, I began to admire the scenery around me. Everything seemed to be like a still in a film, all black, white, and muted emerald green. The snow glinted white in the sun, and the path before me seemed to be untouched from footsteps. I couldn't help but wonder how the chick I was heading to fetch had made it up here without disturbing the snow on the ground, and thinking about it disturbed me. I wasn't exactly a fan of things that weren't human; I knew it was a bit prejudice, but overall, moral compasses stopped when your mortality did. Simple as that.

I came to a little clearing, with a large tree standing, lonely, in the middle. Icicles about three feet long hung off the branches, creating a type of makeshift willow tree. The moment I stepped out from under the shade of the pines, my foot sank about two feet into the snow. There must have been about three feet difference there, and some snow got shoved up under my jeans to touch my bare ankles.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

Right as I closed my mouth, I saw a head pop out from behind the trunk of the big tree. Before I could even draw out my hunting knife, a girl was standing about ten feet from me.

As many times as my heart has stopped beating in my lifetime, I remember this as the the most memorable...looking back anyway. It stopped because I had met the woman I would later marry.

But at the time, I assumed it skipped a beat or two from her freakish appearance. And the surprise in how I reacted; my body tightened immediately, and my breath rasped through my dry mouth.

She was dressed in a white undershirt with a light blue harness dress over it, with the hem short enough to show her lean calves and bare feet, which rested on top of the snow like a fucking elf. Her hair was like starlight, so pale that it put the freshly fallen snow to absolute shame. Ivory waves swirled around her hips, licked at her thighs, and shimmered from the snowflakes that had landed amongst the strands to look like sparkling diamonds in the cold light. Her skin was almost too pale to be considered healthy, her lips were a bit too blue to be seen as human, and her eyes were a little too colourless to be that illuminated. But, somehow, all of that made her seem that much more radiant.

I didn't think she was attractive. She wasn't human, after all. And she wasn't my type at all.

But I couldn't look away, just the same.

She looked soft and squishy, and a little gawky with her long limbs and large feet, but she held herself so sweetly. So damn sweetly.

Her round face lit up, and when she smiled, her eyes sparkled. "Hallo! Are you lost here? Tourists get lost here more often than you would believe, but don't worry, I shall not bite. I'm Elsa."

I only tightened my grip of the knife behind my back, and continued to glare. I wasn't exactly the best diplomat when it came to an unidentified species, in an unfamiliar place, with no idea how to kill said species. That, and I wasn't expecting the voice that had came out of her mouth. It was soft and sweet, but held an air of elegance and grace that I never heard before. It reminded me of Audrey Hepburn.

She frowned, and surveyed me. "Hvor kommer du fra?"

Finally, I asked, more than a little unfriendly, "What are you going on about?"

"I asked you where you are from. America, I presume? What is your name?"

Then she noticed I was holding a hand behind my back, and I saw panic flash in her eyes. Oddly, it made my heart twist inside my chest, to have been the cause of that panic, before I quelled it. She was a noble monster, but she was still a monster. I couldn't afford to pity her. She took a few steps back, but still held that aura of peace and tranquility, like snow slowly falling in a place without any wind.

"I'm Dean. Crowley sent me to get you. We need your help."

She furrowed her brows, and I could almost see her bristling like a character in a Studio Ghibli movie. "My sister and I do not do business with him, I am afraid." Waving her hand towards the path dismissively, she snipped, "You can find your way back down."

I took a step closer to her, so that we were suddenly almost touching. She blinked up at me, her eyes crystal clear. They reminded me of a river I had tried to cross once when dad I were working a job near Anchorage. The river had looked so clear and beautiful, but the moment I had put my foot in, it had bit into the flesh like a wild animal, stinging like a thousand needles before lulling my foot into numbness.

"I don't know if you've been under a rock, but in case you haven't noticed, Princess, the Leviathans are loose and ready to go. You and your sister, we were informed, could help. And believe me, we need it."

She just continued to look up underneath her pale lashes. Breath escaped from her lips in little puffs of steam, and as I looked down at her, I could smell mint and champagne on her breath. It rushed over me like spring water, cooling down my overheated everything.

"Do you have someone talking to my sister Wren, then?"

I nodded, and she nibbled her lip. She stood, deep in thought, before answering with conviction, "Then there is only one thing to be done. We will go back to the cottage, and I will discuss this over with my sister and your companion."

She saw my apparent hesitation, and grinned knowingly. She took a step back, and planted her feet firmly on the ground before shaking out her sleeves and raising her hands. She settled one fist on her flat palm, and looked me dead in the eye when she purred, "Rock, paper, scissors?"

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**So this is how I will set up chapters. They will be from the perspective of different characters almost every time, but mostly it will just be Sam and Dean, with maybe a view from Elsa and Wren's side as an epilogue. Sound good? The only thing I feel I should maybe expand on more is the harness dress Elsa is wearing. You can google it to get a look at what I'm talking about, but basically, it was a traditional Viking garb for women in Scandinavian lands such as modern Norway and Sweden. Please, review? Thank you!**


	4. Raven and a Red Ribbon

**here is the next chapter in the series! Hopefully this lays the basis for the personalities of my characters by now, and I can just build off this ^^ **

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Sam absently rubbed the scar on his hand as he walked up the tamed path, warding off his personal tormentor for a few minutes. He shrugged his tattered coat up to fit better, but it was useless; he could never find anything to really fit him.

Snow fell from the branches whenever the wind blew, snowflakes sticking in his dark chocolate hair. He looked up, and couldn't make the sun out in the cloudy sky, which made him wonder how long he had been out here. Had Dean found the one girl yet? Sam had been walking a long time, and he grew suspicious that he had missed her.

He heard the rustling of animals in the forest, scattering to the safety of the wilderness, and each time, he flicked his eyes to the sound, hoping to catch a glimpse of a woman.

He was just about to pause and consider going off into the forest, when he caught sight of black smoke rising above the tops of the tall pines, and a wave of relief washed over him. He hadn't told Bobby or Dean of his issues lately, with the intensity of his hallucinations and his grip on sanity slipping, and moreover, of his aversion to bring alone. To be with his thoughts, and Lucifer alone to keep him company.

He didn't like being alone, because being alone never meant being alone anymore. And even if this was just another monster or a crony to hell, he felt grateful to her, whatever she was, for the distraction.

He headed toward the smoke, and soon he came to a snow-covered cove with a little cottage, sheltered by the trees. It was like a fairy dwelling, painted a dark red and thatched cheery golden. The shutters were white, and he could see a warm light flickering inside. The cove was littered with thousands of wind chimes, hanging from the tree branches, like an obstacle course. They constantly chimed and chattered in the wind, the faint sunlight making them wink dimly. Compared to the grey outdoors, however, the cottage looked so cheery and welcoming. Sam had never really known a house like this his whole life; it reminded of a cookie tin Dean had gotten him for Christmas one time, when John had been away on a hunt. The lid had depicted a merry little cottage in the middle of a blizzard, and you could see a family snuggling and dancing within the glowing house. Sam had looked up from the scene, and had watched an exhausted Dean eat off-brand cereal with water instead of milk by one fluorescent motel light. He had thought it was so unfair, and he didn't just want to be the little boy making a snowman with his dad outside the cottage; he had wanted Dean to be the older brother laughing in the window, without the bags under his eyes or the scars on his face or the responsibility on his shoulders.

But it hadn't been possible.

Sam walked up to the door, too small for him, and used the iron wolf knocker softly.

The door was swung open, and out stepped the most...adorable female he had ever seen.

Her hair swirled like fire around her pale face, which was flushed from exertion, full of freckles, and spotted with flour. It was so curly, it verily frothed about her, all the way down to her thighs; it was a pale red, almost orange. She wore a brown cotton dress and held a thick emerald shawl to her chin. Her eyes were big and expressive as they gazed up at him with innocent curiosity, and they were the sweetest eyes he had ever seen; deep and exotic violet, fit to be painted on every famous king's robes as a sign of royalty. She wore little green slippers made of sheep wool.

"How may I help you?" She asked brightly, cocking her head. She softly took his hand, the one with the scar, and he started at the sudden contact as she sidled up next to him. He had met a lot of women through hunting, and not one had been this naive as to just randomly start caressing and snuggling up to strangers. But, then again, she was not exactly a normal woman; she was an immortal norwegian girl that had died alongside her sister for doing what was right, and had been resurrected from the grave to become one of the first of a species so rare they were unheard of.

No, definitely not what he was used to.

"You're quite cold out here, you know? Come in, would you?" Still holding his hand, she slipped back inside the cottage, and he ducked and entered. Once inside, she closed the door firmly against the cold, and Sam awkwardly hunched over to keep from hitting the ceiling. He had time to register the furs draped all over the stone floor, the medieval tapestries hung on the walls covered in norse runes, and the roaring fireplace before she shooed him through another door into what, he guessed, was the kitchen.

If Dean had been there, he would have teased him for letting a little plump female order him about, but Sam sort of thought it was nice, maybe, possibly. But that didn't mean he was letting his guard down. He had learned his lesson with Ruby.

She sat him down onto a thick wooden chair next to a kitchen table, and he got a good look at this room. It was little and cosy, with drying herbs hanging from the ceiling everywhere, and a wooden stove heating up a tea kettle.

Had she expected him?

The counter was littered with ingredients, and he faintly registered the scent of cranberry pie. A raven sat calmly on the back of the chair opposite him, seeming to judge him like an overprotective father would to their daughter's new boyfriend.

As she got out two mugs and a jar filled with tea leaves and little bits of dried cranberry and cinnamon sticks, she surveyed him knowingly. "Did I take you by surprise? I'm terribly sorry; I get a bit excited when we get visitors." She spooned the mixture in the mugs, and took the kettle of the stove without making a sound. "But since you look like I'm going to attack you at any moment, shall it assume you're a hunter?"

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, still trying to absorb the fact that he wasn't outside anymore. It was all going a little too fast for his fucked up mind to handle anymore, to be honest. He nodded.

"Good, I'm glad we have that settled. Now, sugar?" She held up a bowl filled with the white sweetness, and he hesitated before shaking his head. He didn't want to take anything lest she poison him or drug him, although, to be honest, he wasn't sure how much she was capable of. She had no muscles he could make out, and she looked more into knitting than killing random strangers. But he wasn't a random stranger. He was a hunter.

She heaped about four tablespoons in hers, and walked over to the table. Setting the drinks down, she settled on the chair with the raven, who hopped on top of her head like a risqué hat. Sam heard purring, and looked down to find two cats brushing against his legs and nuzzling each other. One was a white Angora, with an elvish white-gold collar, and the other was a burnished auburn with cream swirls in its thick fur. A dark maroon ribbon was tied daintily around its throat.

This was all way too quaint for him to be comfortable.

Sam tried to politely push away the tea, but seeing her frown, he looked at the tea with uneasiness. He had this insane need to make that frown go away. Against his better judgement, he brought it to his lips, and felt the warm liquid slide down his throat. It didn't burn like alcohol, and the taste of the tart cranberry and spicy cinnamon made him flush; a flush that had absolutely nothing to do with the smile of satisfaction that spread across her face, or the way those plum eyes were looking at him with something more than simple pleasantness.

"Listen," Sam began, feeling less awkward than he usually did. "We need to talk to you about the Leviathans that have gotten loose recently, miss...?"

She smiled even wider. "I'm Wren. And you're...Sam?"

Sam felt his run cold and his hands, previously relaxed, tightened into fists. "So you were expecting me." He looked down at his tea with contempt. "Did you drug me?"

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head erratically. Her raven cawed angrily, before hopping to her shoulder. "Ikke, ikke! No! Crowley sent us a missive this morning that you were stopping by with your brother! Elsa left before it arrived, so I suspect she got quite a fright seeing him."

Sam looked away, and his jaw ticked. "Let me see it."

She nodded, and pulled a letter out of her bundled figure, sliding it across the table. He opened it, but he couldn't make any of it out. "Norwegian?"

"Ja, it is. If there shall be one thing to like about him, it should be his linguistic skills. I have never seen a language stump him." Wren smiled softly, and cautiously took a sip of her tea. He felt her eyes watching him warily over the rim of her mug now, and he felt guilty for making her fear him now. In fact, her look bothered him very much.

"Hey, if you're scared of me, why don't you just kill me?"

She cocked a brow. "Do you usually give strangers ideas?"

"No, but..." He shook his head. "Why don't you?"

She shook her head playfully, and he couldn't help but watch the ginger curls bounce around her cheeks. "Is that what you would do in my position, as a nubile female?"

Sam blinked in surprise before nodding. "If a massive hunter knocked on my door, yes, I would probably hurt first and ask questions later."

"Well, that would be a volatile existence, wouldn't it? My sister and I are the embodiment of those virtues people value today, but they do not come without a price. You cannot have valiance without cowardice, you cannot have bravery without blindness, and most of all, I believe you cannot be a true hero without being a pacifist."

"That's a bit of an oxymoron, isn't it?"

"All the best things are."

Sam had opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the front door blowing open in the other room. Sam quickly stood up, and Wren leisurely stretched before doing the same. No matter what the situation, Wren seemed to be totally at ease and confident that it was all going to turn out great, and Sam couldn't decide whether this bothered him or made him want to be like that too.

A woman as white as snow trotted in, and a painfully irritated Dean stomped in behind her. Sam was glad he hadn't died out there or something, but Dean looked like there were quite a few intense emotions in his expression, and they were all directed at Wren's twin. Sam couldn't decide whether those emotions involved killing her, or fucking her.

"God ettermiddag, søster," the woman chirped to Wren, smoothly picking up the white cat and curling it in her arms. It purred softly, its long tail swooshing like a white ostrich feather. Above its head, she eyed Sam curiously. "So you're Sam?"

Sam nodded briskly, noting Dean, who leaned against the wall impatiently and had not let his eyes wander from the woman since they had entered.

Apparently quite a lot had happened out in the woods.

Sam looked down at Wren, who was chatting amicably with Elsa in Norwegian. She was holding her fat cat against her breast, and she was fiddling with the ribbon around its neck as she smiled at something her sister said. They talked so enthusiastically, and with such apparent optimism and gung-Ho, that it made Sam wonder: how had these 600+ year old girls retained something that him and Dean had lost in less than three decades?

* * *

**I do hope this was good, and I'm really liking the character development of the twins. I'm trying to keep the personalities of the original characters intact, but if you have any suggestions of constructive criticism, please let me know! I'm treading water here XD **

**• god ettermiddag, søster = good morning, sister.**

**• ikke = no! **


End file.
